Memoria
by Ciole
Summary: As his master lays dying, Yahiko searches within himself to find her last hope, the answer that can anchor her soul to life. It is a great burden for a boy of ten, so Kenshin guides him on a journey through the tendrils of her memories. A tribute to Kaoru, presented in drabbles. AU.
1. Name

**Name**

* * *

"Name her."

Yahiko blinked, struggling against the heavy scent of the incense that was gradually fogging his mind. Before him, the Spirit Lord knelt at Kaoru's side. To see the still form of his master—so feisty and bossy and loud and annoying and…and just so infuriatingly Kaoru—was unnerving at best. Her soul floated in a wispy mass above her center, hovering as if it were trying to decide whether to return to its body or to dissipate and rejoin a larger existence.

"Today, boy." The Spirit Lord reached up to swat an errant wisp back to its companions. "I'm the most powerful being in existence, but some things just aren't possible. She's going to die if you keep lollygagging."

He sucked a slow breath through his nose. He already knew Kaoru was fading, and that it was all his fault. However, it didn't make it any more obvious what her "true form" was. It was rare for mortals to attain a spirit form, much less be given one by the Spirit Lord. There was a part of him that wanted to simply shout the first idea that came to mind, but even he knew that this sort of thing didn't work that way. He couldn't imagine what sort of repercussions there would be for Kaoru, and he wasn't going to risk it. Still, any semblance of an answer eluded him.

"Yahiko." A gentle hand on his shoulder drew him out of his thoughts. "You already know, but perhaps Kaoru-dono herself can remind you. This one will assist."

Kenshin took one of Yahiko's hands in his own, then plunged them straight into the swirl of Kaoru's soul. Time stopped and Yahiko's last thought was that Kaoru would definitely survive because there was no way Kenshin would let her come to harm. He felt his consciousness melt away, and he started to _see_.

* * *

**A/N:** First chapter! As the story progresses, give me feedback on anything, especially the structure. I have a whole jumble of ideas and the story is set up to accommodate that (but I promise there's a method to the madness!). Here's hoping it'll translate well into writing :)

I must say, I was particularly inspired by the writings of broomclosetkink. I didn't think I could commit to writing a story until I read Power, Perceived and fell in love with the style. I've always wanted to do more than a oneshot, but wasn't sure I had it in me to do anything epic, either. Hooray for drabbles!


	2. Remnant

**Remnant**

* * *

Legend had it that the swordsman who founded the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu had once rescued a benevolent nature spirit. The grateful spirit had bestowed a blessing upon him and his descendants: as long as they embraced his same ideals and carried his selfless strength of will, their swords would always have the power to protect life.

After that, people noticed they never suffered casualties when they fought under the leadership of the young warrior. Although there were some who urged him to conquer new lands, he refused to do more than defend their small valley from bandits or occasional invaders. In time, their reputation grew and outsiders stopped even attempting to trouble the valley. In the comfort of peace, the valley flourished. It was for this reason that the warrior was awarded the name Kamiya, or divine valley.

It was many generations before war came to the divine valley again. This time, however, the war was not confined to the valley. It was not even a war between mortals. The Great War was a war of man against spirit. Despite the mysterious abilities of the spirits, the numbers of the mortals were overwhelming. In the end, the spirits tired of the fight and split the earth into separate realms, one for mortals and one for spirits. Mortals could not survive for long in the Spirit Realm, and neither could spirits survive for long in the Mortal Realm. Thus, the spirits and all traces of their strange powers gradually disappeared from the land of the mortals.

Unaccustomed to hardship, the people of the divine valley were particularly devastated by the effects of the Great War. Not only did the fighting cost them precious lives, but the suffering brought out forgotten darkness within the hearts of the survivors. The only remnant of the Kamiya legacy was its blue-eyed assistant master, a girl-child who had thus escaped being called to arms. Her name was Kaoru.


	3. Catch

**Catch**

* * *

Her frustration must have seeped from her tensed shoulders, down her arms, through her hands, into her fishing rod, and onto the tip of her hook. It was the only logical explanation for why the fish had shied away from her (and only her) all day long. If this continued much longer, she would not be able to sustain herself. It was not possible to subsist on rice alone.

A month ago, Gohei had taken up residence just beyond her gate, warning all away from the Kamiya dojo, the home of the _spirit sympathizer_. The war had been over for more than a year, but an acute fear of spirits gripped the hearts of people as if the spirits had never left. There was very little she could do about him—he wasn't breaking any laws and his words weren't exactly lies. When her students finally summoned the courage to question her, she did not deny the accusations. Spirits were spirits, just as mortals were mortals. Some were good, and some were bad. Regardless of what sort of being they were, she had pledged her sword in defense of those who needed it.

Within the month, her lively roster of twenty had completely dwindled, as had her income. And the fish refused to bite.

She stood abruptly and jerked her line from the river. Kamiya Kaoru was not one to deal with stress through inactivity. If the fish would not come to her, she would simply hunt them down herself. So she walked along the riverbank, looking for a new spot.

"No! I'm going to live honorably from now—"

Three men were huddled around a small form that jerked and twitched but _would not cry out_ as they started to kick it. The familiar feeling of righteous fury stirred within her, and she quickly tamped it down so she could approach the fight with a necessary measure of calm.

"Stop!" Kaoru cried out. "You should be ashamed of yourself, ganging up on a defenseless child." She dropped her fishing rod and reached for her bokken, ever hanging at her side. "If you must fight, I will be your opponent."

* * *

When Yahiko awoke that evening, she informed him that as her apprentice, he no longer had to make a living by picking pockets for thugs. She would happily provide him with room and board so long as he led an honorable life of protecting the weak and doing her chores.


	4. Self

**Self**

* * *

"Will I still be _me_ afterward?"

The moment she whispered her question, she wished she hadn't. It was a terribly weak, childish question; she didn't want to seem ungrateful for the chance he offered. The last thing she wanted to do was imply that there was anything wrong with spirits, or that she had any objection to becoming a spirit herself.

"Yes, Kaoru-dono." Kenshin's arms tightened reassuringly around her. "In a way, you will be more yourself than you ever have been."

She wasn't entirely satisfied with this answer, but was too drained to kick up much of a fuss. He meant well, even if he was being somewhat cryptic.

"Forgive me, it was not my intention to be cryptic."

Had he read her mind, or had she said it out loud?

"A potter digs his clay from a riverbank, slakes it, and strains it. Then he shapes the lump into a vessel, dries it, and fires it. When the task is done, the impurities are gone and it has a new form, but it is still made out of clay." Kenshin shifted her slightly, letting her head fall against his shoulder. "There is nothing to fear, so rest now."

She wondered, idly, if mind control was among his powers. As he carried her up the mountain, the swing of his steady stride soothed her fevered mind, and soon she was asleep.

* * *

**A/N:** Originally, I _really really_ wanted to write a Kenshin/Kaoru romance. But their love in the manga/anime (to me, anyway) is such an understated, slow-growing, and deep love. I didn't think my grasp of the characters was quite enough for a romance-centered fic. Also, it's impossible not to love the other members of the Kenshin-gumi. So next time, perhaps.

Thanks to all those who've reviewed and followed, and to all those who are simply reading! The support is addictive and encouraging, and it keeps me wanting to write more.


	5. Harmony

**Harmony**

* * *

One morning, when the color had finally returned to his face and he was steady on his feet, she ordered him to town to buy miso. He gaped at her, aghast, and she was oddly relieved to see him finally acting like a child again.

"What am I, your slave?" He picked his nose, eyes challenging. "Do it yourself!"

Kaoru cast him a look of disgust. "No, you're my apprentice and you need to do your fair share of work around here."

"You're just too ashamed to show your ugly face at the market," he snickered. "Not my problem." The booger on his fingertip passed inspection, and he punctuated his rebellion with a quick flick.

"YAHIKO!" Kaoru was completely beside herself. "You scrub the floors of this dojo, and you do it right now!"

* * *

Later, she was wearing her best kimono and her favorite ribbon. "I'll have you know they call me the Rose of Martial Arts around here."

She bought the miso herself, and Yahiko spent the rest of the week scouring the entire Kamiya compound.


	6. Casualties

**Casualties**

* * *

"I'm afraid Oguni-sensei disappeared alongside Kamiya Koshijiro during the war." Her voice was a bowstring, stretched thin and taut. She was grateful for the cover of night: although she preferred to keep her heartbreak private, it lingered in the lines of her face. "But if you need a physician, there are others in town."

"That will not be necessary." The stranger shook his head and stepped away with practiced efficiency. The small motion drew her attention to his hair as it caught the moonlight and glinted with hints of fire. "This one needs no medical attention, but was simply searching for an old friend."

She bowed, remembering a benign smile and the scent of ginseng. "I am sorry for your loss."

* * *

**A/N:** Poor Yahiko's found himself in a place that has no regard for temporal continuity. As the author, I find myself walking that fine line between creative suspense and simply being confusing. How are you guys holding up? I welcome any sort of feedback.

I'm looking forward to the next few chapters! Things should start moving.


	7. Temper

**Temper**

* * *

Kaoru stared down at the scarlet splotches that had gradually blossomed across her abdomen. There were matching spots on her arm, and her thoughts jumped to Yahiko, the dojo, and a duel long concluded. Specific meanings eluded her, but she was not so ignorant of the workings of spirit magic that she missed the implications of such wounds reopening.

A fist to her bloodied gut reminded her of more pressing concerns.

"Of course a woman who refuses to kill doesn't know how to fight." Gohei snorted out a mirthless noise, probably a laugh. "That's ok. I'll put you to proper use before I kill you."

She clawed at the hand that wrapped itself around her throat, kicking wildly as she felt the ground falling away from her feet. Though she wanted, _needed _to keep fighting, he denied her the luxury of breath and her limbs were turning to lead.

"Put Kaoru-dono down gently." Beyond her field of vision, there came a command, issued with quiet authority and deadly calm. "Your fight is with me."

Gohei's laugh rumbled through the room again. "So the minx found another runt of a champion." His grip around her neck tightened momentarily, and soon she was airborne, flying toward the wall. "Sure, let's play."

When the moment of impact came, it was not against cold stone, but firm muscle. There was a rasp of tempered steel against iron, the sound of a sword singing free of its sheath.

"_That wasn't gentle_."

* * *

**A/N: **Bonus post. I realized the last drabble was about as long as the author's note and felt guilty. Also, I've just been dying to get this chapter out. Who am I kidding? I live for Kenshin/Kaoru.


	8. Zashiki-Warashi

**Zashiki-warashi**

* * *

"Since when?"

He kept weaseling his way out of any chores that required him to leave the grounds and she was somewhat relieved to finally discover a deeper motive. She couldn't doubt him when his eyes were so desperate.

"I'm not sure," he replied, unsure whether he was truly in the clear, "but I think it was the day Gasuke came to retrieve me."

It explained a lot of things, including how she had come out of that fight alive. She was skilled, but he had seen war—there was no accounting for such a difference in experience. Then there was also the matter of the sickness that had left her home untouched, the unbelievably good yield of vegetables in the garden, and the sudden influx of requests for an assistant kendo teacher.

"Then I guess we're stuck with each other for good." She ruffled his hair and smiled slightly. "Thanks, Yahiko."

Her good luck charm spluttered his surprise, embarrassed and unaccustomed to such treatment from anyone. However, the boy was nothing if not resilient. By lunchtime, he had recovered and was lording his small powers over her, being demanding and a general pest. So Kaoru stomped on his foot on her way out to buy miso, and Yahiko spent the rest of the afternoon scrubbing the dojo floor.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for the feedback, everyone! When the story's done, I'll probably post my notes on how the drabbles are organized (story arc/chronological order). Until then, speculation is welcome! It'll give me an idea of how well I'm dropping hints :)

A **zashiki-warashi** is a kind of Japanese spirit believed to take the form of a child, usually 6-12 years old. They are mischievous, but benevolent. A household that manages to attract a zashiki-warashi (generally by treating the zashiki-warashi as one's own) will experience very good fortune, but will fall to ruin if it ever leaves.

Now seems like a good time to mention that ClosetRomanticSockpuppet's "The Gift" was another source of inspiration…


	9. Interlude I

**Interlude I**

* * *

It was the echo of Kenshin's voice in his head that reminded him that he existed, that he was his own entity outside the ever-shifting tide of Kaoru's memories.

"What happened during Kaoru-dono's fight with Gasuke?"

* * *

He had been in her care for several days. During that time, she had subjected him to more indignities than he was willing to remember. Her crimes included force-feeding him tasteless broth, calling him Yahiko-chan, scrubbing him raw, and thwacking him with a shinai whenever he protested the mistreatment. She was annoying, volatile, and the most unladylike creature he had ever met. It never occurred to him that she might be breakable until Gasuke slammed his hilt into her temple and she crumpled.

"Time to wake up, Yahiko," Gasuke called, crossing the room with lazy strides. "You've been dreaming long enough. We don't invest in worthless orphans just to give them away like puppies."

"If I'm so worthless, let me go." He'd meant to shout his resolve but all that came out was a sullen mutter. "I don't want to live like that anymore."

"You don't have to." Kaoru rose slowly to her feet and Yahiko found himself staring at the proud line of her back once more. "Give up, Gasuke. He won't go with you."

A flash of silver arced across her stomach, and the warm spray of her blood burned his cheek.

* * *

"She nearly died."


	10. Strength

**Strength**

* * *

Kaoru watched her father smear a heavy, black line on the paper. A single stroke, and Hiruma Gohei was gone from the register forever.

"Kaoru."

She sat straighter.

"For what purpose do we wield our swords?"

She smiled. "To protect life!"

"Whose?"

"The weak and the suffering!"

"Who else must you protect, my child?"

Upon realizing her answer had not been completely satisfactory, she could not quite keep the disappointment off her face. Her father smiled fondly at her. Aha.

"Me!"

"Who else, young one?"

She hesitated, unable to think of an answer but unwilling to admit she was stumped.

"As long as you have your sword raised against another, you hold some responsibility for their life. To fight with regard for not only your life, but for that of your enemy: that is true strength."

* * *

**A/N:** Kamiya Koshijiro is interesting. I couldn't not include him since he shaped Kaoru, but when it sunk in how little we know about him, it freaked me out that I could basically do whatever I wanted. Somehow, I ended up with an odd mix of Sesshoumaru and a priest I know. Then I remembered he has a mustache and I started envisioning Aritomo Yamagata.


	11. Battousai

**Battousai**

* * *

Gohei was on his knees, cradling his left arm and staring through his crushed thumb as though he were trapped in a waking dream. She didn't blame him. No sooner had her unknown protector set her down than he disappeared in a blur of motion, reappearing only after the fight had been settled. Not even the ground beneath his feet could keep up with him: he left no footprints in his wake, not even a single crushed blade of grass as evidence of his passing. However, in the brief moments when he changed directions, she caught glimpses of the scarlet hair that trailed behind him, swirling around him like a wreath of flames.

"You will never raise a sword against Kaoru-dono, or anyone, again." He slid his own blade neatly back into its sheath with calm certainty. "Although you may yet make something of yourself by living a peaceful life in the village."

Gohei scoffed. "A ruthless demon like you dares to tell me to live peacefully?!" For one who had been dispatched so effortlessly, he walked a dangerous line. Whether it was foolishness or outrage that moved his lips, she was not sure. "I know you. Red hair and a cross-shaped scar—you're the one they call Battousai."

"I am."

* * *

**A/N:** When trying to describe Kenshin sheathing his sword, I somehow ended up tumbling down this rabbit hole, ultimately watching a series of youtube videos of people arguing about the sound swords make (or don't make, as the case may be). Good Lord. In the end, I just left out the sound.

Another fun thing was trying to decide how to treat the Kenshin/Battousai duality: is it a true dissociative identity disorder, or simply an identity others impose on him? Dr. Ciole, graduate of Wikipedia School of Medicine, got lazy and ended up shying away from too much of a discussion.


	12. Custody

**Custody**

* * *

Even without her ki sense, she knew Gasuke was different from the other thugs the moment Yahiko hobbled in from his room down the hall and started to malign her in earnest.

"That ugly hag's got nothing to do with this. She's just another easy target." He shrugged. He was clean and wearing new clothes, but beneath the bandages and poultices she had so carefully applied, the scrubby, street-hardened urchin was back. "She's so gullible, I've been bumming free food off her for _days_."

Gasuke looked skeptical.

"Her cooking really sucks, too."

"That's enough, Yahiko." She already saw through him and though she appreciated the effort, there was only so much she was willing to hear. She turned to address Gasuke. "When I found Yahiko, he was being beaten by a group of your men. I cannot return him to your care. Please leave."

He eyed at her bokken, lips twisting slightly. "Is that a challenge?" He slid into a slightly wider stance and rested his hand on his own bokken. It seemed an uncharacteristic weapon for a yakuza enforcer, but there were some who preferred the drawn out suffering they could inflict through blunt trauma. "I accept."

She charged. The glint of steel caught her eye: too late, she realized he wielded a hidden blade. In the back of her mind, she wondered if she had finally picked a fight too great for her skills. To take his weapon at face value and assume he would fight honorably had been a naïve miscalculation, one she would pay for dearly. Twisting, she managed to protect her body, but only at the expense of her bokken. Half of its length clattered to the floor.

His next blow caught her on the temple, and the floor rushed upward to greet her face.

* * *

**A/N:** A large theme of this story is an exploration of what if...in this instance, what if Kenshin hadn't been around to save Yahiko? I think the way Kaoru went about it in the anime was rather foolish (in general, I find her anime counterpart lacks the maturity and wisdom she shows in the manga, although she gets a few more fight scenes). However, in the manga, I think it's implied that she sends Kenshin to go fetch Yahiko, so she clearly does care.


	13. Interlude II

**Interlude II**

* * *

Kenshin was probing again.

"So you formed the contract because you were afraid she would die?"

* * *

Kaoru stumbled backward, clutching her stomach with one arm. She had probably never sustained such an injury before. Even if the blood loss didn't kill her, there was a good chance the ensuing infection would. His time with the yakuza had provided him with the sort of education few children his age had access to. All too often, a family would incur a debt too great to be borne and when they finally gave up trying to pay it, the women and children would be broken and sold as slaves. The men, however…

Really, his father was lucky that he had died a proud warrior's death, that he had never seen his wife driven to desperation by the combined stress of poverty and raising a young boy. She had fought to feed him for nearly a year before the yakuza had forced her into service in the pleasure district. Her only blessing had been that she could pass herself off as a mortal: despite the widespread fear of spirits, a vicious subset of the population had retained a taste for women touched by magic.

"What a pity. I never enjoy harming women or children." Gasuke shook his head. "You're heavily wounded and your bokken is broken. You can't win, so why throw away your life? Just give me the boy."

She looked up and clenched her jaw. Yahiko recognized the look—fury, indignation, and pure, stubborn pride mingled in a fierce gaze—and knew exactly what she was going to say.

"Never."

In that moment, he realized that there was nothing he wanted more than to stay with Kaoru and lead the simple life she promised he could. He wanted to eat her bitter rice balls, polish the worn dojo floors, and coax vegetables out of the little garden. He wanted to learn the principles of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu. He wanted her to live. So he bit his thumb, just hard enough to draw blood, and swiped it across his cheek. Then he closed his eyes and _wished_.

When he looked again, Kaoru was facing Gasuke, arms stretched in front of her. "Even without a blade, I can still fight with this hilt."

She gazed unflinchingly at their enemy, and her eyes burned bluer than ever.

* * *

"I couldn't let her die. She was going to throw her life away to protect me. That stupid..."

* * *

**A/N: **You guys are amazing...thanks for the encouragement!

So, after several reviews/PMs, my favorite hypothesis is that Kenshin has a form of PTSD, one that puts him on the dissociative continuum (fractures/fragments with identities and functions?). He doesn't lose consciousness/black out when Battousai is around, so it isn't quite dissociative identity disorder.


	14. Weakness

**Weakness**

* * *

Kaoru's first time free sparring was something of a disaster. None of her hits connected. At first, she attributed it to her father's superior ability to evade and block. It was certainly frustrating, but not so great an obstacle that she did not believe she could overcome it with tenacity and spirit. So she continued to pound away, enjoying the solid clack of polished oak meeting its match. This went on for several minutes, until finally he neither stepped away nor raised his bokken to block. Her strike still did not connect.

"Kaoru," his eyes crossed briefly as he glanced at the tip of her bokken, frozen a fingerbreadth away from his nose, "there is no commitment behind your attacks."

She frowned in childish exasperation and stated the obvious. "But I don't want to hurt you."

"What, then, do you seek from kenjutsu?" he asked, solemn and _never_ patronizing.

"The strength to protect life, both mine and yours."

Her father tapped his bokken against her forehead with a small smile. "My child, to spare your opponent requires great strength indeed. But you cannot spare a life you do not have the ability to take. To walk away from a fight without landing a single hit, not because you chose not to hit, but because you could not: that is simply weakness."

* * *

**A/N:** This one was inspired by an aikido instructor who was demonstrating harsher martial applications to some of the takedowns and locks, which are meant to be a merciful alternative to strikes, breaks, and chokes. Someone once criticized him, saying that aikido only works if your enemy cooperates and lets you throw them. The instructor's response was that in order to make it work, you need to be good enough that opponents recognizes the threat you pose and choose to take the kinder alternative on their own. If you're not ready to execute your technique, then you'll get burned. Being gentle can be so much harder than being destructive...it struck me that Kaoru's chosen quite a difficult path.


	15. Offering

**Offering**

* * *

Kenshin stood, pouring his precious Omiki sake in a wide circle onto the earth around him. She was mildly surprised at the volume of sake such a small jug could carry. By her estimation, it should have run dry before they even reached the mountaintop, considering that they had both been drinking it. However, it showed no sign of running out, so clearly he knew what he was doing.

He seemed to have noticed her growing lethargy. As the hours passed and her sleep grew more and more restless, he would periodically rouse her and urge her to take a few sips while he wiped the sweat from her brow. Although no doctor she knew had ever included liquor as part of his healing regimen, Kenshin's Omiki dulled the pounding in her temples and quieted her dreams. It was a pity Gensai-sensei couldn't be around to try some himself because he would have enjoyed the opportunity to explore new remedies. She could see him already, eyes—were they brown or grey?—twinkling with excitement. Of course, he would have tested it thoroughly before ever using it on a patient: he had always been a most meticulous caretaker. She had earned herself all sorts of cuts and scrapes when she was a child, but he had treated them all without complaint. Whenever she would appear with new battle scars, he would clean her up with utmost care, so long as she told him the tales of how she acquired them. He sometimes seemed even prouder of them than she was, like that time ten, maybe eleven years ago, when—

"Kaoru-dono." Kenshin held the back of his hand to the side of her neck and it felt blessedly cool. He looked oddly concerned, or perhaps he usually tried harder to hide it. "It's time."

* * *

**A/N: **Hi, everyone! Sorry for the wait -_-

Omiki is sake consecrated to Shinto gods. It's used in a variety of ways: people use it in purification rituals, give it as an offering, or even drink it in ceremonies to commune with the gods. Sounds like fun stuff.


	16. Truth

**Truth**

* * *

The scornful sound of Gohei's laughter was almost more painful than her wounds. "It is said that you would appear at the first sign of bloodshed, and that for each drop of spirit blood spilt, you would pour out an endless stream of mortal blood. You perfected the art of slaughter." He spat, grazing the hem of the Battousai's dust-stained hakama. "And now look at you! You're so weak, you can't even kill me."

"Can the mouse on the ground call the hawk weak?" Battousai turned away, uncaring. "You conflate strength and the capacity for violence. That is your first mistake."

"Don't tell me…do you believe in the sword that protects life, too? You're just as foolish as that spirit-loving girl and her father!"

"No."

Kaoru let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. She was grateful for his aid and awed by his skills, so it stung all the more to hear her beloved father's ideals so swiftly dismissed.

"The sword is a weapon. Kenjutsu is the art of killing. Whatever pretty words you use to describe it, it is the truth. Kaoru-dono's words are those of a pure, innocent soul who has never been forced to sully her hands." He continued steadily toward her and she averted her gaze, hoping to mask her rising disappointment. "But I would give my all to bring about a world where such idealism can become the truth."

He graced her with the faintest of smiles as he gathered her in his arms, and for a split second, she found herself spellbound by the gentle warmth in his amethyst eyes.

* * *

**A/N: **Obligatory post-Gohei philosophizing/trust building moment...probably also the scene where I fell in love with Kenshin :)


	17. Storyteller

**Storyteller**

* * *

"Oho, Kaoru-chan. You just can't give an old man a rest, can you?" He swabbed something across her forehead and she tried not to flinch. It burned, but she knew he would never do anything to harm her. There just wasn't a pleasant way to disinfect a wound. "What happened today?"

"I don't want to talk about it," she huffed. When Gensai didn't push further, she found herself bursting out anyway. He had that effect on her. "They were smearing the name of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu and _I let them_."

"You did, did you?"

She nodded miserably. "They were picking on a sparrow spirit and I told them to stop it so they challenged me and," her brows furrowed here, "I lost."

"Hmmm." Gensai gave her an appraising look, the one that meant he thought she'd missed something important. "Suzume-chan told the story a little differently. She said you fought valiantly against a big group of bullies, long enough to give her the chance to escape."

"Yes, and then I lost and made our school look weak."

"Suzume-chan doesn't think it's weak." He chuckled, good-natured as ever. "Well, it's a good thing you're learning about the sword that protects, not the sword that smites."

She was not amused.

Gensai shook his head, his wizened eyes still smiling. "Anyone can train and increase the strength in their arms, but not everyone develops the integrity and force of will that makes a swordsman truly great." He clapped her on the back. "You've barely begun your journey, but you already have a strong heart, Kaoru-chan. Just keep training, everything else will catch up."

* * *

**A/N:** I realized after I wrote this that there were a lot of parallels between Kaoru's efforts to help Suzume here, and Yahiko's efforts to help Tsubame. Perhaps that's just because Kaoru and Yahiko seem very similar to me.

Also, Suzume means sparrow (and Tsubame means swallow). Thanks, google.


	18. Successor

**Successor**

* * *

Gasuke raised his blade once more, preparing yet another horizontal slash. There was little variation in his attacks: clearly, he wasn't taking her seriously. Rather than dwelling on the insult, she seized the opportunity to duck under his blade and lunge, crushing the hilt of her bokken into his kneecap. Dimly, she could hear Yahiko cheering as Gasuke's leg collapsed beneath him and she rolled away.

It was hard to stand up again, even if the wound didn't appear to be as deep as she had first feared. Every motion jarred her wounds and sapped her strength. Her blood, still warm, left a slick trail in her wake. Time was against her. Unless she could land a good hit, victory would go to Gasuke, who could simply bait her until she finally bled out. Her heart grew heavy as she watched him struggle to his feet. If he could straighten his leg, his kneecap couldn't have suffered anything worse than a hairline fracture. Perhaps if she could strike it again—no, he was eyeing her with newfound wariness. He would not yield a second chance.

He leapt towards her once more, and she stood, frozen, as he approached. With a cry, he swung his sword at her, but she was gone, gone from the moment his arms had tensed and committed to strike. Only the very tip of his sword caught her arm as she stepped aside. His foot landed in a pool of the blood he had drawn only minutes earlier and he slipped, crashing into the shomen. Beside him, Kaoru watched her blood splatter the small altar housed there, staining the sacred sword of the founder. When was the last time it had tasted blood?

Gasuke was swearing now, and she knew his patience was spent. He intended his next strike to be the last. And as she turned to face him once more, the lacquered sheath glinted insistently in the corner of her vision. She wondered, then, if she dared wield live steel. It would allow her to block his blade, and give her access to all the sword techniques that were lost to her when he sliced her bokken. But a katana could cut flesh, and the slightest slip or hesitation could mean the end of a precious life. Still, what could she protect if she was dead?

His toes tensed as he sprang out of his crouch.

She took up the sword.

* * *

**A/N:** Action scenes are difficult to imagine and even more difficult to translate into words. They're also important to the story -_-

Shomen refers to the front wall of the dojo, typically a focal point of respect. Depending on the dojo, there may be important objects and symbols on display. There may be an altar, and many styles will also hang a scroll with their fundamental philosophies or teachings. If anyone has seen the live action movie, there's a scene where Kenshin steps into the dojo and reads the hangings that describe the sword that protects life.


	19. Kenshin

**Kenshin**

* * *

When he deemed them far enough from Gohei's prying eyes, he finally set her down.

"May this one tend your wounds?" He eyed her abdomen, where the blood still seeped through her gi, but maintained a respectful, almost hesitant distance. Everything about the situation was slightly absurd: his unnaturally fiery hair, Gohei's distant howls in the background, the idea that she might not want her wounds tended, the unreasonably powerful spirit being subservient to her will.

"Yes, of course," she replied, oddly calm. "I am in your debt."

She started to shrug her gi off her shoulders and he was quick to help her, examining every inch of skin as it was revealed. When he started to peel off the bindings by her navel, it pulled at the torn flesh beneath and she hissed. He glanced up at her.

"It's ok. Keep going."

When he bent his head over his work again, the curtain of his bangs swung forward and she found herself studying the cross-shaped scar extending across his cheek. He was small and slight of stature, so it was easy to forget that he was no stranger to battle, an expert who had dealt in death.

"Does it bother you?" He asked softly.

"No!" Relief, surprise...a thousand emotions flitted unbidden across his face, and she discovered she was telling the truth. "No. I have seen all that I need. I—" What could she say to someone who still hadn't forgiven himself? "—just, thank you, um…"

She trailed off, realizing she couldn't call him by that name, _Battousai, _but unsure how else to address him. He smiled for the second time that day.

"Kenshin."


	20. Healing

**Healing**

* * *

"Oi, Kaoru!" yelled Yahiko as he lugged more buckets of water across the yard. "We need more firewood."

He was rushing, but she noticed he managed not to spill any. It was amazing, maybe even miraculous, how quickly he had regained his strength. When she had first taken him in, he could barely stay awake longer than five minutes or keep down more than a few mouthfuls of broth. His ankle had been badly sprained, and she was pretty sure he'd had several cracked ribs and a concussion. And in those long, worrisome days before Gasuke had come to retrieve him, he had shown few signs of improvement. She suspected it was something psychological—Gensai-sensei had always said the mind could influence one's health—because he had bounced back remarkably as soon as she had defeated Gasuke and claimed him as her own.

She, too, had recovered well. All in all, for her first duel with real swords, she thought she had come out ok. After all, Gasuke had been a mercenary, then a yakuza enforcer for years. When she finally saw the doctor, the gashes on her stomach and arm turned out to be far shallower than she expected. The doctor had estimated she would need at least a month to recover, but in two weeks, the flesh had knitted itself back together and he had pronounced her officially healed. It wasn't a moment too soon: barely a week later, the other villagers started falling prey to coughing fits and fevers, overwhelming the small clinic. With no other way to repay the doctor, she offered him her home and her assistance. Now, the sick filled the Kamiya compound, laid out in the dojo and all the spare rooms.

"Kaoru!"

She paused her task of grinding herbs and looked at the groaning patients surrounding her.

"Can you take care of it, Yahiko?" At this, he opened his mouth to protest and she grinned. "You can think of it as training."

* * *

**A/N: **I'll write another drabble or two with the final details of the Gasuke fight, but for the most part, I consider this mini-arc concluded. The other day, high school English came back to haunt me when I found myself absent-mindedly applying the hero archetype to Memoriaverse Kaoru. In the Gasuke arc, we have the event that starts her journey (she takes in Yahiko), supernatural help (Yahiko), and sort of a special weapon (half a point for the founder's sword).


	21. Evil

**Evil**

* * *

"How long will you fools let her walk among you?!"

At the market, Gohei had taken to tailing her as she made her way from stall to stall. He talked to everyone, except her.

"She communes with spirits, even now!"

It tended to make her trips rather awkward. Spirits no longer existed in their world, and people were all too ready to move on. So everyone averted their eyes as they shuffled past, and she discovered that invisibility was far lonelier than an empty home.

"They're plotting to return and she's going to help them, just like her father did!"

They arrived at her final stop, the tofu seller.

"He destroyed my chances of being a swordsman because I was strong—he feared I'd stand up to them one day!"

Kaoru bowed and murmured a polite greeting, then passed her tofu bucket across the counter.

"Old woman," said Gohei. "You should be more careful of this one. Everyone knows blue eyes are the sign of pacts with spirits." He leaned closer. "She might cast a blight on you. Don't you think it's suspicious that she didn't catch the sickness like everyone else?"

"She and her boy took good care of me last week." The small woman peered up at him. "She may have the evil eye, but I see no evil in her heart. I cannot say the same for you, young man."

When she returned Kaoru's bucket, it was unusually heavy. Kaoru started to protest—she hadn't bought that much—but the woman waved her off. And after that, she always made it a point to slip Kaoru the cracked blocks she could no longer sell.

* * *

**A/N: **I think it's mainly in the eastern Mediterranean/Aegean region where blue-eyed people are viewed as bearers of the evil eye. It's funny because the fic morphed into something else, but this concept is what sparked the whole fic.


	22. Summons

**Summons**

* * *

Her father and Gensai-sensai sat wordlessly on the engawa and watched the sunset, bathed in the copper glow of dusk. The crumpled missive lay sullenly on the ground behind them, out of sight but unwilling to be forgotten. She poured each a cup of tea before joining them.

"When must you leave, father?" she asked.

"The main forces will arrive in a fortnight. We will join them then." His gaze traveled the small yard, the ground still scuffed from their latest spar, grasping for any last details he may have failed to capture in a lifetime of memories.

"We?" Her spirits rose because as long as they were together, she and her father could conquer anything.

"Kaoru-chan," said Gensai-sensei, ever gentle, "the army needs physicians, too."

Her teacup slipped from her careless fingers and shattered upon the dusty earth.

* * *

**A/N:** If the first set of drabbles was largely expository and the next set was loosely connected by an exploration of Kaoru's inner strength/philosophy, then I suppose this bunch has to do with feelings and bonds between people...


	23. Journey

**Journey**

* * *

It seemed like hours that Kenshin had been pressing on the wound, but still the bleeding would not stop. To their horror, the wound seemed to have grown inexplicably deeper. As her mind started to disengage, she became increasingly aware of her heart beating faster within her chest and her pulse jumping beneath the gentle pressure of his hands. She was weary of the pain, the exertion, the worry, and, honestly, everything. Still, the more her mind pleaded for the mercy of rest, the more her stubborn heart raced on.

"P-please," she gasped. "Don't waste your time. I," she was forced to pause while she drew in a shaky breath, "I had an apprentice, you have to—"

"Save your breath," he urged. "Yahiko has already been taken to safety."

In that moment, she felt a surge of love toward the quiet spirit for having saved Yahiko, as well as irritation for failing to mention it earlier. It explained a lot of things, however, such as the fact that _he knew her name_. Perhaps something inside her had always known she could trust him so she just never questioned it, or perhaps she was simply naive_._ The liberating relief of knowing Yahiko was safe; the grief from having believed him dead; and the fear for her own fate assaulted her all at once. As the rush of emotion swept her up and her chest began to heave, she could not tell whether she shook with laughter or sobs.

"These wounds are so old," she said. "When they reopened...I-I knew something had happened to him."

Kenshin's eyes widened in understanding and he suddenly looked very peeved with himself. Wiping the blood from his hands, he untied a gourd from where it hung at his hip, tugging the stopper free and raising the jug to her lips.

"Please drink, Kaoru-dono. It's Omiki."

He tipped it back and no sooner had she gulped down a mouthful than she felt a wave of warmth ripple out from her center, returning circulation to her limbs and banishing the fatigue that clouded her mind. To her amazement, the bleeding slowed and the wound made a feeble attempt to knit itself together.

"It seems your body has been depending on spirit energy for a long time, that it has." Although the danger was not gone, Kenshin's shoulders sagged in obvious relief as he began to pack the wound and bandage it.

She wondered, then, just how much she had burdened Yahiko and felt a renewed swell of remorse. "Oh, Yahiko…how could I have left him alone? I should never have abandoned him. We didn't need money that badly." She squeezed her eyes shut as the telltale prickling began anew. "If I could just see him again…"

"You will." Kenshin gathered her in his arms once more and began to walk. "This one will do his best not to jostle you, but we must hurry to the Spirit Realm."

* * *

**A/N:** And here we have "the journey and the unhealable wound," as well as even more "supernatural help".


	24. Interlude III

**Interlude III**

* * *

"What if I _can't_? What if I pick the wrong form?"

There was a firm tug at the back of his mind, then everything blurred and swirled and suddenly he was falling again…

* * *

_"Shinta—don't look!"_

But he couldn't _not_ look, not when a sword was piercing through the delicate shield of her back and everything was fading from view except for the red, the red that splattered on his face and painted the strands of his hair-

-red everywhere-

-but wasn't it already red, anyway?

_"Attend. As of now, you are…"_

There was a flash of white—a cape?—so fast he wasn't sure he actually saw white, but he knew at least that for once it wasn't red—

_"—KENSHIN!"_

He hadn't meant to stain everything, really, but after that first drop it was everywhere, gushing forth into a river beyond his control, except it _was_ in his control because those were _his_ hands on _his_ sword, the sword that dripped anew with-

_"-Battousai."_

_"…a good, strong name, worthy of the disciple of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu..."_

_"Battousai."_

-red, red blood, darkening to rust, but still red-

_"Himura…scarlet village? How appropriate."_

_"…and a form to match. But only until you're ready to…"_

_"Battousai, the legendary assassin!"_

-even the sake, especially the sake. When had it turned bitter with the thick tang of blood? It was blood, always blood, permeating everything…

_"Oh, my poor Kenshin, you've suffered so…"_

…except for the pure, blinding white that burned his eyes, until he could see nothing else but that snowy white-

_"Didn't you know? Your soul is so kind, this goes against anything it ever wanted."_

-white that froze him to the core, even as her words shattered him! But they shattered his red prison, too-

_"This form is all I can give…farewell, my love…"_

-red everywhere-

_"Hmph. Baka deshi."_

* * *

And just when he feared he was going to drown, Kenshin's voice sliced firmly through the dizzying muddle and set him free.

"Living beings are not static. They experience things, they learn, they grow, _they_ _change_," he said. "So it is not uncommon to find oneself in the 'wrong form,' at least transiently-"

Yahiko felt, more than heard, the slight strain beneath the practiced calm…

"-but the greater the mismatch, the greater the repercussions."

* * *

**A/N: **I have a difficult time consciously breaking traditional grammar rules, so this chapter is a bit of a departure from what I'm comfortable with. But I was really curious and wanted to try it! Anyway, if school allows me to write a sequel to Memoria, it'll probably expand on the parts of Kenshin's past that I alluded to here. He had a rougher spirit-puberty than most, I'm afraid.

A dear friend is getting married this weekend, so I won't be updating until Monday or Tuesday. In the meantime, however, you might try to guess what Kenshin is. I've hinted at both forms, and he'll be spilling the first one in the near future.


End file.
